A Fate Worst then Death By Stephen Hyde Prologue Ekarta wasn't always known as Ekarta or the Stoneheart. He was once a Brave and noble Warrior Named Glen Farbuck he had long strong arms and a handsome face and all loved and praised him. Until Ravn the Queen of Death grew jealous of him and stole his heart encasing it in the ice of her malice and hatred to the world and replaced it with a stone from the top of the Mountain of Sorrow. Glen’s happiness was slowly was sucked out and replaced with the feelings of a rock.
The world was silent and still as Ekart stood in the mist of the destruction of this small and insignificant village. The fire slowly devoured the houses and as he stood he there he felt nothing. He knew he should be concerned but he wasn’t. He stood there and waited, although he did not know what he waited for. He looked down and saw how a body of an older woman laid on the ground. Her face wore a rigid scared look, as she had looked right before he had cut her down, as she stood there defenseless. Although he had no feelings for what had done he did not want her looking at him so, carefully he rolled her body so her face was in the mud and not staring at him with those glazed eyes. As he wandered the town he had so recently destroyed, he found no sign of life. The grass was even brown and withered. Not how it had looked when had first approached the town when it was green and lush only a few hours ago. Many of the inhabitants had fled the town and he did not bother to follow for he knew his terror must spread. The few inhabitants that fought back or were too slow now lay in the mud with the old lady. Now that he was satisfied that all were dead or had fled, he sat down on a nearby barrel and began to clean his skin and his behemoth battle axe of mud and blood. The rain began to fall like the tears of a mother that recently lost a child. As he sat there in the rain and thought about how he had gotten like this. But, he couldn’t remember. It was if his memory was clouded by the fear of remembering. In that second something broke his trance, a sound. He knew the sound was very soft and that he shouldn’t have heard it, but he did. He knew whatever it was it was drawing close. He stood up. Nothing could defeat him. It was illogical to assume that anything could harm him, but it was better to be safe. He hefted his axe up so to be ready in a second notice tensing. It was close. He could feel the presence of It, and It knew he was there. It was coming for him. Ekarta looked down to see that there was a long black arrow protruding from his chest. Taking he’s eyes off the arrow, he searched for where it came from. There in alley stood a tall thin green creature, a ljót, a vile creature. Ekarta slowly began to walk towards this creature knowing it must die. The ljót tried to bring down Ekarta with another arrow but Ekarta was not to be trifled with, now that he had knew what he was dealing with. He easily deflected the arrow with his axe. Now that the ljót realized that his bow was useless he dropped it and drew his wicked looking scimitar that is the signature weapon of the A ljót warrior. Ekarta brought his mighty axe down as the ljót tried to block the blow with his now seemingly small scimitar. The impact shattered the blade into several pieces, leaving only a stub on the hilt. The ljót warrior gave a final attack and threw the hilt at Ekarta’s face, but Ekarta didn’t even flinch. The projectile fell to the ground before the ljót could take a step back. The battle axe fell deep into his skull splitting down to his shoulders. Ekarta kicked the now dead creature off of his axe and walked away, for he knew that ljót’s rarely traveled alone. Before he could take a little more than three steps, he could feel the presence of a stronger being, but instead of preparing to fight he lowered his weapon. This presence was a much stronger one. Out of the shadows stepped a young woman, her raven black hair gently moving with the breeze. “Do you know who I am?” Her voice was barely a noise it was more like the sound of the rain falling to the earth. “Yes, I remember you; you did something to me…” Ekarta was surprised by both his words and the sound of his voice. It was the sound of two stones rubbing against each other. The woman stood there waiting for him to finish, but after a time she let out a shrill laugh, the laugh of crow that has found something to feed on. “You cannot remember can you?” After a few moments her face grew from jubilant to disappointment. “I thought making you forget everything would be fun, but this is no torture for you can’t even hate me. I have a new idea. I saw how you conquered this village and how you slaughtered. You could be a valuable asset for me, but I also need you to suffer.” As Ekarta stood not caring what this woman had to say, but then the women pulled a plain looking box from under her cloak “I know the perfect hell for you my friend. Open this box!” Ekarta walked forward; when he reached this cloaked lady he stabbed his sword into the ground and took the box that was held before him. He slowly opened the lid. What he saw before him was a block of ice and was encasing a heart. A chill ran though his body, the second his eyes met it. The lady uttered a word. The second it was out of her mouth, memories began to refill his head. Growing up on the Hardrick village, learning to fight. He remembered countless battles and victories. He remembered Laila, sweet Laila. He remembered courting her and dancing wither. All memories stopped but one, a memory of Ravn tearing out his heart. He was filled with a desire kill the lady in front of him. The lady that had destroyed his life. But his body refused. It wasn’t that he was too shocked to move, it was that his body was literally fighting him. “This is how you will live from now on Glen, watching yourself slay innocent people. I have given you back your emotions but, your new body is still as heartless and under my control. You may feel the horror as you slay women and children or may watch helpless while I stand in your arms reach. This is how I will punish you for your treachery this is what you deserve.” Glen stood there trying with all his to might, trying to tell himself that Ravn was wrong that he still had control of his life, but it was to no avail. “I have an order for you my new SLAVE, head east and destroy all towns, villages, and cities. Leave NONE alive.” The second the words ceased, Ekarta turned and began to walk east. He knew it would be pointless, but he tried to turn to stop, to do anything other then what the foul witch had commanded of him, but as before he had no control of his limbs. As he left the mutilated town the sounds of the fire raging and the sound of Ravn’s laughter slowly faded into nothingness, leaving only the sound of the rain and his footsteps both falling steadily, seeming as if they would never cease.
Ekarta marched for several days before he reached the next village for the western part of Carta was a scarcely populated land and the villages were few and far between. When he reached the village he drew his weapons despite his resistance, for over the miles his constant resistance had not given him mastery of his accursed body. As he reached the edge of the woods, just beyond the town gate, for a split second he saw the peaceful town going about their normal sunny day lives. The children played. The women talked. The shop keepers sold their wares. The guards casually stood at their posts. Before he even realized it, he was charging full speed towards the village. His sword swiftly ended the first guard and his shield caught the second in the jugular. He was off before the bodies hit the ground, taking advantage of the villagers’ slow reactions. He sliced and stabbed without pity. He wanted to scream, to stop, to run away from this terrible scene, but his grey heartless body continued to kill the innocent people that had never wronged a soul. As the massacre raged on, several tried to slay Ekarta but they fell just as everyone did to his scarlet sword. He knew he mustn’t stop his own fight against his body willing it to stop these horrific scenes that were playing before his eyes. He tried and tried to even just shut out the blood and gore and the terrible, terrible faces, the faces of rabbits being cornered by a wolf. The screams echoed in his ears “Monster!” “Dear lord help us!” “Where’s my daughter?” Countless screams of terror emanated from people trying to flee from this terrible fate. A t one point a man screamed “I told you! This is the same that happened to my beloved-” before the man could complete his words his head was in the mud. Time no longer existed, as the decimation of the village continued on. It could have been seconds, or hours, or years for all Ekarta knew. The bodies kept on falling and there was nothing stopping that, until there was no one. He wanted to cry as he saw the streets filled with blood and bodies. As he looked down at his feet, he saw a pool of blood that had settled in to a shallow hole in the road and staring back at him was an expressionless stone face. It looked as if did not care. This was the worst, to know that the people he had killed had to see a face that did not care, a face that felt nothing for their lost lives, a face that felt no sorrow or happiness. In this moment, Ekarta realized he was a monster and this was a hell that he would have to live throughout the rest of all eternity until a hero could manage to slay him and free him, he knew that he would never have the ability to make a choice again and that he was just a puppet of the vile witch of death.
Stephen Hyde is an 8th grader at Homer Jr. High School
A Fate Worst then Death
By Stephen Hyde
Prologue
Ekarta wasn't always known as Ekarta or the Stoneheart. He was once a Brave and noble Warrior Named Glen Farbuck he had long strong arms and a handsome face and all loved and praised him. Until Ravn the Queen of Death grew jealous of him and stole his heart encasing it in the ice of her malice and hatred to the world and replaced it with a stone from the top of the Mountain of Sorrow. Glen’s happiness was slowly was sucked out and replaced with the feelings of a rock.
The world was silent and still as Ekart stood in the mist of the destruction of this small and insignificant village. The fire slowly devoured the houses and as he stood he there he felt nothing. He knew he should be concerned but he wasn’t. He stood there and waited, although he did not know what he waited for. He looked down and saw how a body of an older woman laid on the ground. Her face wore a rigid scared look, as she had looked right before he had cut her down, as she stood there defenseless. Although he had no feelings for what had done he did not want her looking at him so, carefully he rolled her body so her face was in the mud and not staring at him with those glazed eyes.
As he wandered the town he had so recently destroyed, he found no sign of life. The grass was even brown and withered. Not how it had looked when had first approached the town when it was green and lush only a few hours ago. Many of the inhabitants had fled the town and he did not bother to follow for he knew his terror must spread. The few inhabitants that fought back or were too slow now lay in the mud with the old lady. Now that he was satisfied that all were dead or had fled, he sat down on a nearby barrel and began to clean his skin and his behemoth battle axe of mud and blood. The rain began to fall like the tears of a mother that recently lost a child. As he sat there in the rain and thought about how he had gotten like this. But, he couldn’t remember. It was if his memory was clouded by the fear of remembering.
In that second something broke his trance, a sound. He knew the sound was very soft and that he shouldn’t have heard it, but he did. He knew whatever it was it was drawing close.
He stood up. Nothing could defeat him. It was illogical to assume that anything could harm him, but it was better to be safe. He hefted his axe up so to be ready in a second notice tensing. It was close. He could feel the presence of It, and It knew he was there. It was coming for him.
Ekarta looked down to see that there was a long black arrow protruding from his chest. Taking he’s eyes off the arrow, he searched for where it came from. There in alley stood a tall thin green creature, a ljót, a vile creature. Ekarta slowly began to walk towards this creature knowing it must die. The ljót tried to bring down Ekarta with another arrow but Ekarta was not to be trifled with, now that he had knew what he was dealing with. He easily deflected the arrow with his axe.
Now that the ljót realized that his bow was useless he dropped it and drew his wicked looking scimitar that is the signature weapon of the A ljót warrior. Ekarta brought his mighty axe down as the ljót tried to block the blow with his now seemingly small scimitar. The impact shattered the blade into several pieces, leaving only a stub on the hilt. The ljót warrior gave a final attack and threw the hilt at Ekarta’s face, but Ekarta didn’t even flinch. The projectile fell to the ground before the ljót could take a step back. The battle axe fell deep into his skull splitting down to his shoulders. Ekarta kicked the now dead creature off of his axe and walked away, for he knew that ljót’s rarely traveled alone. Before he could take a little more than three steps, he could feel the presence of a stronger being, but instead of preparing to fight he lowered his weapon. This presence was a much stronger one. Out of the shadows stepped a young woman, her raven black hair gently moving with the breeze.
“Do you know who I am?” Her voice was barely a noise it was more like the sound of the rain falling to the earth.
“Yes, I remember you; you did something to me…” Ekarta was surprised by both his words and the sound of his voice. It was the sound of two stones rubbing against each other.
The woman stood there waiting for him to finish, but after a time she let out a shrill laugh, the laugh of crow that has found something to feed on. “You cannot remember can you?” After a few moments her face grew from jubilant to disappointment. “I thought making you forget everything would be fun, but this is no torture for you can’t even hate me. I have a new idea. I saw how you conquered this village and how you slaughtered. You could be a valuable asset for me, but I also need you to suffer.”
As Ekarta stood not caring what this woman had to say, but then the women pulled a plain looking box from under her cloak “I know the perfect hell for you my friend. Open this box!”
Ekarta walked forward; when he reached this cloaked lady he stabbed his sword into the ground and took the box that was held before him. He slowly opened the lid. What he saw before him was a block of ice and was encasing a heart. A chill ran though his body, the second his eyes met it.
The lady uttered a word. The second it was out of her mouth, memories began to refill his head. Growing up on the Hardrick village, learning to fight. He remembered countless battles and victories. He remembered Laila, sweet Laila. He remembered courting her and dancing wither. All memories stopped but one, a memory of Ravn tearing out his heart. He was filled with a desire kill the lady in front of him. The lady that had destroyed his life. But his body refused. It wasn’t that he was too shocked to move, it was that his body was literally fighting him.
“This is how you will live from now on Glen, watching yourself slay innocent people. I have given you back your emotions but, your new body is still as heartless and under my control. You may feel the horror as you slay women and children or may watch helpless while I stand in your arms reach. This is how I will punish you for your treachery this is what you deserve.”
Glen stood there trying with all his to might, trying to tell himself that Ravn was wrong that he still had control of his life, but it was to no avail.
“I have an order for you my new SLAVE, head east and destroy all towns, villages, and cities. Leave NONE alive.” The second the words ceased, Ekarta turned and began to walk east. He knew it would be pointless, but he tried to turn to stop, to do anything other then what the foul witch had commanded of him, but as before he had no control of his limbs. As he left the mutilated town the sounds of the fire raging and the sound of Ravn’s laughter slowly faded into nothingness, leaving only the sound of the rain and his footsteps both falling steadily, seeming as if they would never cease.
Ekarta marched for several days before he reached the next village for the western part of Carta was a scarcely populated land and the villages were few and far between. When he reached the village he drew his weapons despite his resistance, for over the miles his constant resistance had not given him mastery of his accursed body. As he reached the edge of the woods, just beyond the town gate, for a split second he saw the peaceful town going about their normal sunny day lives. The children played. The women talked. The shop keepers sold their wares. The guards casually stood at their posts. Before he even realized it, he was charging full speed towards the village. His sword swiftly ended the first guard and his shield caught the second in the jugular. He was off before the bodies hit the ground, taking advantage of the villagers’ slow reactions.
He sliced and stabbed without pity. He wanted to scream, to stop, to run away from this terrible scene, but his grey heartless body continued to kill the innocent people that had never wronged a soul. As the massacre raged on, several tried to slay Ekarta but they fell just as everyone did to his scarlet sword. He knew he mustn’t stop his own fight against his body willing it to stop these horrific scenes that were playing before his eyes.
He tried and tried to even just shut out the blood and gore and the terrible, terrible faces, the faces of rabbits being cornered by a wolf. The screams echoed in his ears “Monster!” “Dear lord help us!” “Where’s my daughter?” Countless screams of terror emanated from people trying to flee from this terrible fate. A
t one point a man screamed “I told you! This is the same that happened to my beloved-” before the man could complete his words his head was in the mud. Time no longer existed, as the decimation of the village continued on. It could have been seconds, or hours, or years for all Ekarta knew. The bodies kept on falling and there was nothing stopping that, until there was no one. He wanted to cry as he saw the streets filled with blood and bodies. As he looked down at his feet, he saw a pool of blood that had settled in to a shallow hole in the road and staring back at him was an expressionless stone face. It looked as if did not care. This was the worst, to know that the people he had killed had to see a face that did not care, a face that felt nothing for their lost lives, a face that felt no sorrow or happiness.
In this moment, Ekarta realized he was a monster and this was a hell that he would have to live throughout the rest of all eternity until a hero could manage to slay him and free him, he knew that he would never have the ability to make a choice again and that he was just a puppet of the vile witch of death.
Stephen Hyde is an 8th grader at Homer Jr. High School